


Adorn

by gemjam



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas Decorations, Daddy Kink, Established Relationship, Father/Son Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 10:25:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17058053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemjam/pseuds/gemjam
Summary: Trimming the tree is a time to reflect on the passing years.





	Adorn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lavenderlotion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlotion/gifts).



> Second request filled, for the prompt Stilinskicest and _Christmas decorating._

Stiles looks up from stringing the lights around the tree to see his dad place down the familiar box. He groans, hands dropping away from what he’s doing.

“Do you have to?” he whines. “It’s so embarrassing.”

“Shut up, I love you,” John responds without even looking at him.

His dad says those words to him daily in one context or another, but they never get old. They soothe something inside him, make him calm and whole, a tiny glow that heals the scarred parts of his heart a little more each time.

He watches John start to pick out the ornaments, a box full of memories. Every year from kindergarten onwards, Stiles would make some kind of terrible Christmas decoration in the last week before the holidays and his dad has kept every single one of them. He brings the box out from wherever he stores it all year, it’s not with the rest of the decorations that Stiles helped him pull out earlier, and he carefully and painstakingly pulls them out in chronological order, hanging a lifetime of devotion on their tree.

Stiles watches him for a moment, those sure hands that have always guided and protected and loved. They always make him feel a wonderful mixture of affection and adoration and want. He shifts on his feet, fussing with the lights again.

“Is it because I’m your little boy?” he asks, his voice suggestive but still seeking.

“Always,” John says gruffly.

Stiles’ lips curl up into a smile. “Daddy?”

“Mmm,” John responds, tight and focussed. He’s up to fourth grade now.

“I’m a big boy now,” Stiles says, knowing he’s skirting dangerously close to terrible porn dialogue, but it has the desired effect. He watches his dad’s cheeks deepen to a patchy scarlet, even as he doesn’t lose his composure.

“Maybe you can show me later,” John says.

Stiles feels the anticipation tickling at his skin. He bounces on his toes and works extra hard to get the Christmas decorating finished fast.

When they’re finally done, John gets to his feet looking like he should creak. He puts a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “Why don’t you get your old man a beer?”

“Sure, dad,” Stiles says easily, going through to the kitchen.

He grabs one out of the fridge, feeling the coolness in his hand grounding him as he grabs the opener, popping off the cap. When he returns to the living room, the main light is switched off and it’s just the coloured lights on the tree and the light-up snowflakes on the mantelpiece. It looks magical, so festive and intimate. It warms Stiles’ skin. He hands his dad the beer, looking over at the tree.

“Thanks, kiddo,” John says, taking a grateful swig followed by a satisfied sigh. He’s sunk into the couch cushions, legs splayed, his lap just begging to be crawled into. “Now why don’t you show me what a big boy you are.”

Stiles grins, his cock already getting hard. He shoves his plaid shirt back from his shoulders, shaking it off his arms to fall in an inelegant heap on the floor. His T-shirt is next, yanked over his head with no sense of decorum. If his dad wanted a sexy striptease then he should have asked for it. What he’s about to get, if Stiles has anything to do with it, is a lapful of naked neediness.

He toes off his sneakers, kicking them aside, his hands already working the button on his jeans. He pushes them down along with his underwear, bending at the waist to try and free them from his feet without falling on his ass, and somehow get his socks off with them. He doesn’t think he’s capable of being coquettish anyway. If his dad cared about that, they’d never have gotten into this situation to start with. But here they are. Exactly where Stiles never dared imagine but kind of always knew they’d end up. Neither of them could be happier.

He stands up straight in all his naked glory, cock straining up against his stomach, Christmas lights playing over his pale flesh. He’s about to move forward and collect his reward, but then he sees the way that his dad is looking at him, eyes roaming shamelessly and with nothing but adoration. Stiles stands, arms by his sides, and he lets himself be looked at. It’s something he’s never really enjoyed, he feels like he can only be found lacking, but not now. Not by his daddy. He makes him feel like he’s a work of art.

“My beautiful boy,” John says in utter awe.

Stiles smiles and maybe preens a little bit. He’s enjoying this. He stands there while his dad’s eyes rake over him again and again, as though he hasn’t already explored every inch of him with his mouth and his hands. He’s never looked though, not like this. Stiles is impatient by nature and John is indulgent. Slowing things down makes Stiles vulnerable, but he can see now that it has the ability to take in so much more love.

John takes a swallow of his cold beer and then holds up his free hand, motioning Stiles forward. Stiles takes deliberate steps, his dad placing a hand on his hip once he’s close enough to keep him standing there, just within reach. John’s fingers trace across his hip, his belly, grasping his cock in his hand and giving a few slow pulls. Stiles sucks air in through his teeth, mesmerised.

“You are a big boy,” John says.

Stiles bites down on his lip, hips shifting restlessly. “Not as big as you.”

John gives a low laugh and pulls Stiles down into his lap, Stiles snuggling instantly into him. No one has ever hugged him as good as his dad. John holds him close, taking another swig of his beer.

“Maybe when I finish this, we can compare.”

Stiles nods his head, resting his cheek down on his dad’s shoulder. “Yes, please.”

John kisses him on the forehead, the two of them sitting together in the silent room while his dad nurses his beer. Quiet has always been Stiles’ enemy, or maybe it was the other way around, but right now he feels nothing but a deep-down contentment, and a heat low down in his belly at the wonderful promise of what comes next.


End file.
